


Thing 3: Loss

by Alethia



Series: Come to Pass [3]
Category: CSI: Miami
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Moving Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-08
Updated: 2005-07-08
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:50:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1267204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Evening Lou, I’m looking for Calleigh.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I was expecting you might. Short answer is she’s gone. Sorry, kid.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thing 3: Loss

**Author's Note:**

> This will make no sense if you haven’t seen 3.24 “10-7.” Originally posted on LJ [here](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/143313.html).

After she’d seemed fine. Too fine. No one could be that fine. She’d had H take her off the ballistics rotation, but she was settling in with trace and it was just—fine.

Eric had made sure she wasn’t alone for a couple days, checked up on her, if he was honest with himself. But she was completely closed off, giving the appearance of casual concern over the guy who’d killed himself in front of her, but nothing more.

Eric knew what a crock that was, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

So he kept setting up things to do—movies, but no scary ones, new restaurants, comedy clubs, even if Calleigh didn’t laugh very much these days. Something to keep her occupied and he didn’t know if he was helping her or facilitating her special brand of denial.

He was ambivalent about that but even he’d admit that spending time with her was—nice. It reinforced the fact that he was firmly in love with her—and yes, he could safely use that word now, much as it terrified him—even when she was doing her best to play the untouchable Ice Princess.

It was only mildly sad that he even found that kind of hot, if he didn’t focus too hard on how screwed up it all was.

All this found him in front of his building, waiting for her to pull up in that monstrous, sporty thing she drove, ready to be whisked off to go see the latest in what crap Hollywood put out these days. Maybe they could grab dinner afterwards. Popcorn was hardly a satisfying meal and if he remembered right, there should be a nice Thai infusion restaurant around the corner…

He straightened expectantly at the sight of headlights coming his way, and couldn’t help his frown as the car passed by, not meant for him. Calleigh was never late and she was pushing twenty minutes at this point. They would miss all the previews.

She loved the previews.

He absently dialed her on his cell—speed dial number one, even before his mother, and didn’t that say something about him—and listened to it ring. And ring. And ring again. 

He brushed away the worry. It was nothing. She was probably doing her hair. Or something. He left a message.

Eric congratulated himself for waiting a whole ten minutes before calling her again. Still nothing. 

On the third try he decided it was okay to start flipping out. He was in his car and pushing the speed limit before he even left the third message, which was exponentially more worried than the first two. 

And damn Calleigh for living so far away.

Eric didn’t know what he’d expected—cop cars, crime scene tape, Armageddon. The placid, quiet scene he found really wasn’t in his top five. _Something_ was wrong; couldn’t everyone else sense it?

He raced up her stairs and briskly knocked on her door. Then he knocked louder. Then he pounded.

The next door over opened and an elderly woman with graying hair and a worn face peered out. What was her name again? Calleigh’d always liked her. Sweet, but always telling Calleigh she needed a husband.

Ramirez, that was it.

“Mrs. Ramirez, do you know where Calleigh is?” Eric asked, hoping not too much of his panic crept into his voice. It really wouldn’t do to scare the whole building.

But if it came to that…

“No, I haven’t seen her. But there were men in and out of her apartment today. I could hear them through my walls, banging things around,” she said, obviously bewildered.

Banging? What the hell?

“Is Lou here tonight?” he asked, hopeful. 

She nodded. “Si. This is one of his nights. 101.”

Eric flashed her an appreciative grin and offered a quick thank you and was hurrying down the steps before she’d even gotten back into her apartment. Really not very polite but, well, emergency.

He forced himself not to knock too hard at Lou’s door, waiting impatiently as he heard the man shuffling around. Eric bounced as he waited, a feeling of dread hitting him from nowhere. Whatever it was, this wasn’t good.

Lou opened the door tiredly, and Eric could tell from his change of expression that he was right. It was bad.

Eric had only met him once before, but Calleigh had talked about him in glowing terms. She’d liked his kindness and he was a better manager than most, both brusque and sympathetic in the same breath. For all that she lived a chaotic work life, Calleigh’s home was as tranquil as could be.

“Evening Lou, I’m looking for Calleigh.”

“Yeah, I was expecting you might. Short answer is she’s gone. Sorry, kid.” 

What? Gone? She couldn’t just be _gone_.

Lou obviously expected that reaction because he settled himself against the door, as though he planned to be there for a while.

Eric opened and closed his mouth a couple times but it was just—what the hell did that mean?

“What do you mean?” he asked slowly, not even recognizing his voice. His throat felt like it had closed up and it was an effort even to force that out.

“Came and told me today she was moving out, just like that. Said she’d pay all the penalties for the short notice, finish out the month. Was really in a hurry. Had a moving company come and get all her things and boy if they didn’t act like it was a life or death situation,” he said, laughing to himself a little.

Life or death. If only he knew.

“Did she—” he cleared his throat, getting some control. “Did she say where she was going, leave a forwarding address, anything?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate.

Eric knew by Lou’s face that he’d lost that battle.

“Look, I’m sorry, but she didn’t. She just said she had to get away, as quickly as possible. That she couldn’t handle it all. I don’t know where she went.”

As quickly as possible. Eric had made plans with her that morning. She’d been fine on the phone, all the while planning how to get away before he could come and make it an issue.

Really, classic Calleigh avoidance. Except this time she was _gone_.

The world dimmed a little bit and Eric got this really hollow feeling in his chest—she was gone. Really gone, like meant-to-stay-that-way gone.

And she hadn’t said _anything_.

Lou took pity on him, clapping a comforting hand on Eric’s shoulder as Eric sagged against the wall beside his door.

Gone.

“What are you going to do with the apartment?” Eric asked, because obviously it was time to talk about inanities. Those at least _made sense_.

“Rent it out to someone new, I suppose. Calleigh still had three weeks left, so I’ve got some time. It’ll be fine.”

“I’ll take it,” he heard himself saying, wondering from where that had come.

Lou obviously did, too. “Huh?” he asked, looking at Eric like he might have a screw loose.

“The apartment, I’ll take it,” he said again, this time more firmly. Things were coalescing in his head and this time it didn’t seem so crazy. It was actually fitting, Eric finally settling in to a place he’d wanted to be for so very long.

Minus one important piece, of course, but what did that matter now?

Lou scratched his head and looked puzzled, but shrugged. “Well, it saves me the effort of having to put ads in the paper. You wanna see it?”

See it without Calleigh _in_ it and yeah, he needed that. “Yeah, actually. You mind?” 

“I guess not. Let me get the keys.”

He did and Lou walked him up there, rattling off rent and amenities, rules and customs. He kept shooting Eric these worried little glances, but thankfully kept his own counsel.

Seeing her apartment without her there…it was surreal. And in his head it was still her apartment, probably always would be. He could even smell her perfume lingering.

Everywhere he looked was a memory—throwing a pillow at Calleigh and almost hitting the window, racing from the kitchen to the couch, always to get the “good” seat, cooking at the stove while Calleigh watched with her head on her hands, laughing at his antics.

The lump formed in his throat without warning and it was a supreme act of will to push that pain down, the heat behind his eyes that spoke of loss and hurt and betrayal.

Eric walked around for a bit, marveling at how different it all looked without her stuff here, how it didn’t seem right. He wondered what she’d done with all of it.

“I’ll, uh, have it all cleaned up for you,” Lou interrupted his thoughts, fidgeting in the living room. Poor guy was uncomfortable.

“That’s fine,” Eric answered through a fog, sounding very far away.

“So you still want it?” he asked, very carefully, like he was talking to someone just on the edge of breaking.

Was he about to break? Huh. There was a thought.

“Yeah. Just let me check one thing first.” He walked into the kitchen and checked inside the cabinet that he’d come to think of as his. Calleigh didn’t cook much and Eric had ended up buying her a bunch of spices, telling her to use them. She never did and Eric had always rolled his eyes every time he came over, checking to see if there was any change and finding none.

The spices were gone, but a note was taped to the inside of the cabinet door. Short and in Calleigh’s girly scrawl: “I’m sorry.”

He took the note off the door, dimly noticing that his hand was quivering.

Well. That was that.

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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